Throw another frog on the barbie

Watching repeats of Luke Nguyen’ Vietnam and Greater Mekong, in which he catches, cooks and eats everything from mice and bats to grubs, and even frogs caught in rice paddies, could never have prepared me for the frogs as food market experience in Cai Be on the Mekong Delta.  But first let’s go back a few weeks prior to event, to Don Konh one of the 4000 Islands in the southern Laos stretch of the Mekong.

As established, I knew that the further we travelled in South East Asia, the food was going to get scary.  Not having always been a vegetarian, and even now admitting to a penchant for grilled salmon with steamed spring vegetables and a beurre blanc sauce, accompanied by a glass of sauvignon blanc, I’m not too weird about meat, as long as I don’t have to eat it.  The Boy on the other hand is a bit of an enigma.  I present as evidence, his favourite T-shirt, ‘Meat is Murder:  Tasty Tasty Murder’.

On Don Konh there is lying in hammocks, walking and eating, all with the backdrop of river life, so I coerced the Boy from the verandah hammock we found ourselves tracing the path to the Khone Falls.  I can happily go from breakfast to dinner at full speed, without a thought for lunch, but this isn’t the case for him, especially when interesting local delicacies present.  After taking the obligatory photographs, water falls for him and yoga photos for me, we wandered back through the trinket sellers and restaurant shacks, stopping for a fresh green coconut.  A once a day must when they’re available.  Why don’t we have these in Australia?  We have coconuts palms?

Waiting for the young girl to lop the top off the coconuts, the Boy spots his quarry –skewers of frogs, ten to the stick, being barbecued over hot coals, unattended.  While I am oblivious and focus on my coconut, he loiters at the cooker and catches the frog lady’s attention.  A conversation followed regarding cost and the Laos up sell; Do you want roasted sweet potato with that?  He retreated to the coconut hut for contemplation.  Urged on by a assorted crowd of local men, all with interesting dental work, no doubt from many years of betel nut chewing, or maybe frog eating, the Boy made his final approach.

Some further discussion, skewer selection, exchange for money and he was ready to eat.  At this stage, I’ll point out that he fancies himself as a cross between a Buddhist monk and Andrew Zimmern, a TV Chef who hosts and eats his way through his own Weirdest Foods show.  This means all weird foods must be photographed and rated on a Likert Scale.  I prepared for the documenting but before I could even get the camera ready, he had the first one in his mouth.

“I can’t believe you didn’t even hesitate.  Just straight in.”

"Yeah.  I didn’t want to think about it ... just do it.”  As he went for another one.

“What do they taste like?  Chicken?”

“Sort of like a fishy beef jerky.”  By now he is half way through the - What do you call a group of frogs? – army of frogs.  Although these weren’t marching anywhere except very quickly to his stomach.

“That’s why I chose these smaller ones, because they were cooked to well done.  I knew if I got the juicier ones, I’d have trouble.”

For the rest of the day I had to endure a barrage of frog in my throat jokes.  The frogs didn’t seem to affect his delicate constitution, and they’d stayed down, if not forgotten.

*

Forward to the Cai Be markets, and we stepped off our river boat onto the wharf in the centre of nose to tail produce.  Stepping around buckets and baskets a testament to the mantra ‘If it moves eat it’; where was the vegetable aisle?  I spotted green leaves and struck off with single vision.  The Boy as always wandered off in his desire to “engage with the locals”, and when I turned to find him, he was standing aghast at a quivering pile of shiny flesh.  Live frogs, skinned and still hopping, at least they would have been if they weren’t tied a leg each, in clutches of five or six.  I didn’t check.  That was it for me.  The fish paste factory in Battambang had really been a challenge, but this was too much.

“Why do they skin them alive?”

“They weigh less to buy.”

No photographs please.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Have Yoga Mat, Will Travel

A yoga mat seems to sneak through the carryon luggage allowance.  It’s okay to strap it to your backpack.  It’s better if your travelling companion has space to stash it in his.

On arrival at any new hotel, it is important to check for yoga space.  Balconies are a luxury.  Roof tops are lovely if warm and clean.  Hotel room floors usually involve a different kind of Vinyasa dance around the bed, chairs and side table, plus your other luggage.

Pre planning for yoga is as easy as Google Pie with Trip Advisor filling.  And so began my yoga tour of South East Asia.  Of course those of you who follow me on Instagram – sabineyoga – will have seen the pictures (some taken by the Boy, bless his little yogi heart) now here’s the story.

My pictorial yoga journey began in earnest when I left Australia for India, in October 2013.  Every town, temple and terrain was a yoga location.  No flying low under the radar when you’re striking a pose in the craziness of India, so Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia were ripe for the asana-ing.

*

First to Hanoi where the local version of yoga seemed to be an outdoor callisthenics dance, performed every evening by groups of lycra clad ladies around Lake Hoan Kiem.  Hilarious to watch and impossible to fathom who was leading or following, but they moved like synchronised swimmers, minus the smiles.  This yoga was serious business.

A more familiar form of yoga was advertised at the gym just across the road from our hotel.  After negotiating a thousand motor cycles and circumambulating the block the required three times, we located the entrance to the stairway, leading to the lift, that opened to a corridor, which lead to the studio.

As a self confessed yoga purist, I do look down my nose at gym yoga, but when in Hanoi ...  I arrived early, surprise surprise, and was directed pointedly to a spot in the pre arranged pattern of mats.  With no idea where the teacher would be, and the room filling up fast, I felt it prudent to sit tight.  At the exact starting time, a skinny young man, who looked more like an Olympic gymnast in dress and demeanour, walked in and started his routine.  The class participants, all ladies, followed in military fashion, as he zigzagged his way through a selection of asanas, up down, in out, and finished on the clock, before striding out.  Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite so clinical, but that’s how I remember it.  Still, trying to keeping to my mantra of ‘any yoga is good yoga’, I was just happy to be experiencing how yoga is practiced around the world.

*

Out and about in Luang Prabang, I found a notice for Vinyasa at Utopia.  Everywhere was close in Luang Prabang and the Boy was sick and sorry, so I struck off into the dusk.  Of course it was a bit further than X marking the spot.  In fact, quite a bit further as I wound my way through lanes that became alleys, til I walked into a kind of slumber party for backpackers and tired hippies.  The yoga was on a deck suspended over the Mekong, and as the sun set and the breeze came up, the balance postures were challenging.  However, this was my kind of yoga and all was well with the world.

*

My next yoga experience failed to launch, through no fault of my own.  In Vientiane I sourced and contacted the sole yoga studio.  I planned my travel with time for unforeseen incidents.  Funny though I made a linear calculation, and the tuk tuk driver used a quadratic equation, of ever decreasing circles and eventually deposited me further from my destination than I had started out.  Unable to make it now either on foot or by wheels, I was a very unhappy yogi that day.  Thank goodness for French pastries and coffee.

*

In Siem Reap I left nothing to chance and planned my whole day around getting to Peace Cafe for yoga, and some ‘fresh vegetarian food to nurture body and soul’ ... and a pedicure at Kaya Spa.  Of course, when you are an Australian, travelling in Cambodia from India on your way to Nepal, you have to expect the yoga teacher to be Australian!  Antigone Garner (Tiggy)’s class was great, and on my second visit, she and I sat with the Boy for dinner after class, until the cafe was closing and they moved us on.  Turns out she’s a travelling yogi, running Cocktail Yoga Tours from Thailand into Laos, but she still has a natarajasana silhouetted against Sydney Harbour on her business card.

*

The universe conspired to work in my favour in Phnom Penh – and then it didn’t.  Our hotel was just two blocks from NataRaj Yoga and my first class, with Carole from Switzerland teaching, was a back bending, bridge working, and headstand varying delight.  Then we partnered for and Instagram pose, before I sought coffee and WiFi.  Within hours my iPhone had been stolen and my world was in disarray.  Thank goodness for yoga, and the Boy.  The next day I braved the streets with his old iPhone 4 – the horror of it – and tentatively made my way back to NataRaj, this time for Toi’s class.  Oh my gosh!  That’s how you get into Eight Angle Pose.  Well mine still has a few too many angles and sometimes it doesn’t quite launch, but OM, that’s yoga.

*

In Ho Chi Minh City staying at the Sofitel Saigon Plaza, what else would I want to do but go to yoga?  Yoga Living was walkable distance and even if it wasn’t, no more tuk tuks for me; the vehicle of choice for iPhone thieves on motorcycles.  Another circumambulation and a helpful local who saw me with my trusty yoga mat and pointed me in the right direction, and I arrived at Yoga Living.  Back in Vietnam, I must say it still had that militant feel about it, but it was quiet and safe; the energy was evident as I walked up the stairs.  The class was lovely and hot (The tropics turn most yoga into Bikram.  That’s why they handed out small towels at the desk!), with a number of challenges postures, the sort I leave out when practicing by myself; really Bird of Paradise sounds pretty, but kind of isn’t, and standing splits – well even floor splits elude me.  Happily I went back for a second class, this time chaperoned by the Boy because it was dark and I was/am still suffering from PTSD over the Phnom Penh incident.  Well, I finally got one of those callisthenics classes.  She was late; 10 minutes late.  It was a mismatch of Ashtanga-gone-wrong postures, with no transitions, and at times dangerous.  Headstand with no warm up or instruction?  And bang on time, she finished.  No Savasana.  No Namaste.  No nothing.  Oh well, when in Saigon ...

*

And now here I am in Kathmandu, Nepal.  Up three flights of ladder-like stairs to Pranamaya Yoga.  Greeted by Emily.  We yogis are the only species that bond for life at first meeting.  Vinyasa class, just challenging enough, and the first time I’ve felt warm since I arrived in Nepal 2 weeks ago.

*

Around Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia in 30 Days

All credit to the boy for planning and organising this trip.  The visas alone were a thesis.  Plotting a doable and transport available course was a mission.  Conceiving of even going and where to go was inspired.  My involvement didn’t really kick in until we were at the 24 hour countdown.  Much to his displeasure I’d not pawed over the plans he meticulously made, having been somewhat preoccupied with my Indian visa situation, or lack thereof, and the heat in down town Manipal.  But that’s another story ...

Once we negotiated our way out of India, on our fourth flight – Mangalore, Bangalore, Mumbai then Delhi to freedom – without being stopped at the border by DHL for unpaid service tax (Again another story. This time of postage to India!), we both took up our roles to bring you Travel by Brian and Accomodation by Kayleen.  There were a couple of crossovers in the roles.  Brian did book the front and back end accommodation, “I thought you might need some luxury to start off and before you come back.”  Plus we had help organising our 4000 Islands in the Mekong stay.  Other than that, despite all research and reviews to the contrary, Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia were incredibly easy to get around.  Planes, buses, minibuses and boats, all ran frequently, on time and at reasonable costs for good quality, safe travel.

Having escaped via Delhi with Jet Airways and the usual bag check, booking pass, multiple security point circus that is India, we flew to Hong Kong for a few hours of assimilation back into the real world and a cafe bill of $18 for two cups of coffee, then we landed in Hanoi with Vietnam Air.  Vietnam Tourist Visas must be prearranged, that is you have to be checked and on the approved list to be granted a visa on arrival.  In fact before we were even given our Boarding Passes for Hanoi, in Hong Kong, they wanted to see this proof.  Forms, photos, stamped and we were in.  My first experience with a communist regime.  Taxi to our hotel – no problem.  Book the return taxi – all sorted.  Payment?  “I’ll get some Viet Dong.”  Very sheepishly Brian returns with a 1000 Dong note.  The Help Desk lady laughed, “That’s about 10 cents.”  Thank goodness for AMEX and we were on our way.

Four Nights at the Opera

Our first stop out of India during a month long Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia trip, and The Hotel de l’Opera, Hanoi was my luxury treat.  And really that says it all.  Small and attentive enough to feel boutique, large enough to provide all the comforts one could possible want for ... and more:  the bathroom appointed and lit light a gemstone cave, the bed with mountains of linen and almost in need of a step ladder to reach it, and a ‘pillow menu’ no less.  The concierge staff in particular were exemplary.  The hotel’s atrium is beautiful and my only ‘complaint’ would be that this is where they allow smoking (which unfortunately is allowed in all hotels and restaurants in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia), so we never were able to enjoy it.  Fantastic buffet breakfast, excellent wine cellar, maybe a little more needed on the dinner selection, but overall ... it’s a place you could easily never leave and we didn’t for four nights – well except to go walking and enjoying the city.  Our next stop was Lakhangthong Boutique Hotel in Luang Prabang.

*

From Hanoi to Luang Prabang again with Vietnam Air, also with a sick Brian.  He’d succumbed to travel sickness, the chest infection type.  We skimmed the palm trees flying into Luang Prabang, a tropical village clinging to the Mekong in the middle of Laos.  Visas on arrival here again, but this time just form, photo and pay.  The interesting part was watching the passports being passed ‘Pass the Parcel’ fashion from the payment counter (USD$1 service charge) along a line of no less than a dozen attendants, to emerge approved and stamped at the collection end.  The last attendant then called out names and seemed genuinely surprised when each arriving passenger in turn collected their passport.

As we were to find everywhere, transport from taxis to tuk tuks is pretty much fixed price, so much of the angst for me, game for Brian, is eliminated.  Walk out through unattended customs and there’s the taxi desk.

The Boutique Hotel version of the Backpackers’ Hostel

From Hotel de l’Opera in Hanoi to Luang Prabang with no idea what Laos would be like, but Trip Advisor research, we arrived easily at Lakhangthong Boutique Hotel, Luang Prabang.  With only a handful of rooms, upstairs and downstairs, each with a balcony table for breakfast, this is a quiet delight not too close to the super tourist Night Market area, but easily walkable.  My partner had succumbed to the travel bug, the chest infection kind, and spent a good deal of time in bed, while I happily traversed the town on foot and found ample food options and Wats, of course.  The staff, including the owner on site, were helpful and friendly.  New arrivals were welcomed to sit and talk at the reception courtyard with whoever was coming or going.  A place that probably is reminiscent of Byron Bay, Australia way back before it became ‘spoiled’, Luang Prabang and Lakhangthong Boutique Hotel are must dos.  From here we ventured to Vientiane.

*

This time we flew Laos Air to the capital, Vientiane.  Brian kept mentioning to other passengers something about Laos Air jets falling out of the sky.  Ours didn’t.  We did however have a growing collection of moist towelettes, handed out on all flights.

A bed by any other name ...

The taxi pulled up in the early evening at Douangchan Plaza Hotel, Vientiane and I thought it looked too expensive for the price I’d booked.  And indeed it was good value for money.  Being very recently renovated, everything is clean and shiny and working.  In fact you couldn’t fault the room we had, but the hotel still looks and feels like a shell without any of the decorator touches – a plant or some art would be a good start.  The breakfast was included but so so/so not and being a little away from the tourist strip made it hard to find an alternative – even a cup of coffee.  The best place we found was Falang Bistro, Sailom Village, Chantibouly District.  You’ll get there if you head towards the French Quarter and you will locate it by the wood-fired pizza oven out the front.  Italian pizza cooked by a French trained Laos chef is a must.  Douangchan would do well to put a barista cart with fresh baked pastries in the vast foyer.  At the moment it’s a more than adequate hotel, but it lacks heart.  Our next stop was Pakse Hotel, Pakse.

*

Another Laos Air flight.  Another round of moist towelettes.  No incidents.  Pakse looms out of the landscape against a dusty Mekong, reminiscent of an outback Australian mining town.  With only a handful of multi storey buildings, all clustered around the junction of the Mekong with the Xe Don River, it already felt inviting.  Plus we had a lady taxi driver.

Just Charming.

After the austere Douangchan Plaza Hotel in Vientiane, Pakse Hotel, Pakse was a warm comforting step in to old world charm and manners.  The building is authentic and so are the staff.  Our room was small but perfectly adequate – it even boasted a bottle opener attached to the outside of the cupboard!  Everything about Pakse Hotel was easy and seamless:  Our check in and swapping nights to allow for a 4000 Islands trip, and here the young lady on the travel desk, Ms Nang, deserves special mention for her care and attention, for putting our travel and accommodation in the islands together.  Some nice touches:  The roof top restaurant wait staff handed shawls to guests as it was a bit cool.  We were able to leave our extra bags secured during our river trip and had the same room on our return.  A self-guided walk around town ensured we enjoyed Pakse and its soft pace and people.  The minibus collected us at the door for our next destination, Pan’s Guesthouse, Don Kohn.

*

This was our first Laos road trip, and we had our misgivings.  One hundred and fifty kilometres before lunch?  Unheard of in India and we assumed unlikely in Laos.  One air conditioned, clean minibus, a sealed double lane dual highway, polite and law abiding motorists, and two and a half hours later, we were on the river boat to Don Konh.  Then deposited without ceremony on the side of the river, to find our way to Pan’s Guesthouse.  Given there was only one path and the habitation was to the right, this really wasn’t a problem, and we meandered our way through the village, happening upon our destination after only 10 minutes walk.

The closest thing to being on the river, without getting wet.

From Pakse Hotel we took the minibus then river boat to Pan’s Guesthouse, Don Konh.  I highly recommend you talk to the travel desk at Pakse Hotel to arrange this for you.  On line it looked messy.  Ms Nang made it easy.  The minibus is comfortable and clean.  The roads are excellent.  The services, bus and boat, run on time, and by lunch time you’re sitting on your verandah at Pan’s.  And really that’s all you need: a verandah and a hammock to watch life on the Mekong go by.  Don’t worry about anything because Mrs Pan (?) will ensure you have breakfast in the cafe and safe passage back to Pakse.  Nothing to do.  Nowhere to go.  No one to please.  Just be.  And then we went to Tasom Guesthouse, Siem Reap.

*

One more Laos Air jet and we arrived in Cambodia.  Now here was an interesting visa on arrival process.  The same form filling, USD paying system ... followed by the digital photographing and fingerprinting!  Well, for some.  How the selection criteria worked, I don’t know, but it seems everyone except Brian was duly required to follow the beeps and provide thumb and four fingers of each hand on the scanning pad.  The only differentiating factor we could think of, was age.  Perhaps after a certain age, tourists aren’t deemed a risk anymore?  Anyway after that scrutiny, the way was clear, literally, and we again walked through an unattended customs area, straight to the airport taxis.

Tasom?  Really?

I booked Tasom Guesthouse, Siem Reap based on great reviews, then the day we travelled I checked for the address and saw a less than happy recent guest’s words.  Compounded by the airport taxi driver’s comment, ”I’ve never taken guests there.” I was quite apprehensive.  However, Tasom Guesthouse turned out to be a value for money, port in the storm that is the craziness of Siem Reap.  Okay, so it’s basic, but what do you expect for the price.  What we got was clean, friendly, safe and more than adequate.  Beware Siem Reap, not just Tasom, suffers from more than its fair share of load shedding ... well maybe its because there are so many tourists.  It has Angkor Wat after all.  Tasom is at the edge of the busy section ... and there’s real coffee at the Service Station cafe next door.  Special mention is needed here to Mr Phalla our taxi driver for the duration.  This polite young man scored us at the airport, and was chuffed when Brian engaged him for the Grand Wat tour of Siem Reap.  Well mannered and English speaking, plus always with a clean pressed shirt, he even checked if we thought it was okay for him to wear his sunglasses.  I’m sure he made Siem Reap an easier place to negotiate.  You can find him on email: phallapes@gmail.com  Our next bus trip took us to Vy Chhe, Battambang.

*

Our bus ride to Battambang was short and uneventful.  The highlight being the three pairs of underpants on one of our allocated seats.  “Look at these especially for you.”  One of Brian’s favourite topics is underpants, of late Jockey or nothing and previously, Big Bazaar’s ‘Two for the Price of Three’, so I thought it was nice they knew he was coming.  Turns out of course they were the driver’s clean laundry, and after much giggling from the local ladies at Brian’s glee, they were claimed.

Same, same and sterile.

After the small and homely Tasom Guesthouse in Siem Reap, Vy Chhe, Battambang was a vast expanse of opulence and excess.  You’ll understand when you see the foyer.  The rooms are huge and the bathrooms too, but it’s pretty much same, same and not different.  There’s no restaurant for breakfast and although the staff very available, it was a bit sterile and we were left to our own devices.  Now this is all well and good because there are enough places to eat and things to do to ensure Battambang is a worthwhile stop.  By all means go to Vy Chhe.  It’s convenient and perfectly fine, and on the hotel strip where all the properties look to offer similar accommodation.  The road trip to Pandan Boutique Hotel, Phnom Penh was next.

*

Another mini bus, another easy road trip through Cambodia, until the outskirts of Phnom Penh where road works saw the bus driver knock it into 4WD and go off road, or was that still on road.

A Garden in the Middle of Town

After Vy Chhe, Battambang, Pandan Boutique Hotel, Phnom Penh was a garden oasis at the right end of town.  Somehow we managed the penthouse suite and it was a suite.  Absolutely beautiful from top to bottom Pandan turned out to be a retreat from the perils of Phnom Penh after I had my iPhone stolen by a motorcycle pillion passenger when we were in a moving tuk tuk.  Please, choose tuk tuks with side coverings.  That aside and back to Pandan, it’s near multiple restaurants and cafes aka pastry opportunities, plus easy walking to the riverside rush if you must.  Across the border by bus now, a mission in itself, to Sofitel Plaza, Saigon.

*

The deluxe bus from Phnom Penh to Ho Chi Minh City was classified as such due to the inclusion of breakfast (which we donated to the children selling trinkets aka begging on a river ferry down the road a bit), water and of course a moist towelette.  The bus ride also included an onboard flight attendant, who handed out the moist towelettes, but most importantly, assisted in negotiating the border crossing at Bavet/Moc Bai.

Oh my gosh!  This was a hell hole they must have modelled on an Indian system.  First hand in passports.  Not happy with that!  Wait on bus.  Attendant returns and calls names.  Collect passport and follow the other sheep to a booth.  Operator checks Cambodian visa on computer: photograph, fingerprints.  Oh no!  This could be a problem.  Maybe Brian won’t be allowed to exit.  No fingerprints.  Turns out they were happy for him to leave.  Back to the bus.  Handover passport again!  Drive 200 metres to the Vietnam border.  Turns out the first stop was exiting Cambodia and the no man’s land in the middle kind of like the international transit area at the airport, where you’ve officially left one country but haven’t been granted entry into the next.

This time off the bus and collect all your luggage.  Zig zag up the ramp to the Entrance Hall, round the corner and the fun begins.  No lines, no order, no hope.  Bus load after bus load of would be arrivees press in to a 5 metre wide channel.  The Immigration counters loom silent at the end.  The crush of humanity unmoving.  Following some other stunned sheep from our bus, we stand and wait and swelter and become claustrophobic (well I do) with panic.  Remember we have no passports at this time.  The system eventually reveals itself.  The immigration official in the distance calls names and like in a Bingo Hall, the lucky winner raises their hand and pushes through non-existent spaces to the front.  Then it’s through the cattle crush and out into Vietnam and the deluxe bus.  All this takes approximately one and a half hours, during which time I call a false Bingo and get ushered through the gate sans passport.  This turns out to be a good thing, because I snaffle our bus attendant who locates our stack of passports and gets them through.  No doubt we’d still be waiting.  Roll on Ho Chi Minh City.

Not 5 star!

After the beauty of Pandan Boutique Hotel, Phnom Penh, we had high hopes for the 5 Star, Sofitel Saigon Plaza, Saigon ... and they weren’t met.  Sure it’s a nice hotel but it’s not 5 star.  The rooms are small but comfortable.  The bathroom was lovely, but shower over bath flooded every time.  The restaurant options are basically a Sizzler equivalent or high end French; both priced excessively.  The downstairs bar was quite okay but really shabby, with worn arms on all the ‘leather’ couches.  Although the staff were excellent and when we had a few minor requests, a light not working, an extra power adaptor, and champagne glasses please, these things were attended to in a flash, in all Sofitel Saigon Plaza needs a good pick up if it hopes to retain that rating in actuality, not just via Trip Advisor reviews.  So to our last stop, Mekong Lodge, Mekong Delta.

*

The minibus pickup from the hotel, the quick trip down the freeway to the wharf at Cai Be , then the escorted river boat to Mekong Lodge, plus return via boat then taxi to HCM Airport are the only way to go here.  The lodge obviously know how to make their property accessible to guests, and they do it well.

Where’s Maurice?

Another seamless transfer from Sofitel Saigon Plaza, Ho Chi Minh City via mini bus and boat, and we arrived at Mekong Lodge, Mekong Delta.  Our lasting impression of Mekong lodge will not be its garden bungalows with semi-outdoor bathrooms and boat bathtubs.  Nor will it be the lunch and dinner served at the table by the lovely young wait staff.  While these aspects were as promised and no doubt pleasing, the most valuable asset Mekong Lodge has are its guides, in particular our guide, Maurice (Tinh).  From his beaming smile as he guided, indeed helped us on to the boat at Cai Be wharf, to his delight and care in making sure we saw all his Mekong Delta had to offer, our time in Mekong Lodge was a lovely gentle way to end our time in Vietnam.